Home is where
by leuska
Summary: Michael's reflection from his POV on the meaning of home. Spoilers for S1, S2, S3, possible speculations for S4.


Firstly, home was where his mother and brother has been

**itle: **Home is where...**  
Author: **Lizparker6  
**Characters: **Michael Scofield, Sara Tancredi, Lincoln Burrows, LJ Burrows**  
Word Count: **approx. 1800**  
Rating: **R for some language  
**Summary: **Michael's reflection (from his POV) on the meaning of home.

At first, home was where his mother and brother had been. The place he could return from school and kick the bed angrily on a bad day without having to fear some stranger would slap him around just because he could, a way he experienced only years later.

Then, with his mother's demise, he lost any association as that home meant some specific house, specific room, specific bed, specific toys or simply a street or town or country. Since his mother's death, home was no material thing, home was simply where Lincoln was. Simple as that, no exceptions. No matter what house, no matter what foster parents, he knew he could always call the place home as long as Lincoln was there. Then of course, there were times when Lincoln wasn't there. When he wandered various foster '_homes_' alone, and he never felt more lonely and more homeless in his life.

By the time Lincoln returned to his life once again, he changed. He was now an older, though still only teenage Lincoln, who somehow understood his little brothers need for his presence, but at the same time couldn't stay put in one place. And just as that, Lincoln somehow managed to find a way to accomplish both goal at last. It was since _that_ time Michael knew home was where paper cranes were. Because where there were cranes, there was also Lincoln somewhere near. Little did he know his brother snuck out during night to meet Veronica, the girl whom his brother was in love with since Michael could remember, but no matter when and how, a simple paper crane always sit at his bedside table, watching over his sleep.

Then, oddly enough, there were years when Michael finally had an own roof over his head, hell, he even created roofs and homes for other people. But the place that he lived in was simply…just a place he lived in. Not a home. There was no Lincoln and there were no cranes.

Oddly enough, the next time he felt the most weird sensation of home was when he entered Fox River and once again, met his brother '_under one roof_'. He knew from the beginning this was only temporary, and that _home_ could be a hell of a place at times. But once again, Lincoln was there, and Michael used paper cranes to break him out. For one because it reminded him of what was ahead, second to simply remind Lincoln that this time, it would be him who would look after the two of them for a change, create a sort of home for them later. Well, sooner rather than later being the premise here.

The most strange thing about this was however, that all along his mission to free his brother, to literally break him out of a maximum security state penitentiary, all of a sudden and absolutely unexpectedly, another person entered his world. If it were only his breaking out thoughts, or even the casual normal thoughts, that would be just alright.

But this person completely attacked all his senses, tore down almost every wall and every precaution he so carefully set beforehand, and entered without invitation his most private thoughts in the most private corner of his mind. Even those that were somehow associated with the _home_.

For Michael knew, home was a state of mind, not simply a place. To Michael, _home_ were _people._ Somebody who cared you existed, somebody whose face lit up at the simple look at you, somebody who cherished your presence, somebody you didn't have to hide from. Right? _Wrong_. He wasn't only hiding, he was lying. He was lying to this new special person that didn't even have the time nor space to realize what she was getting into, how deep the rabbit hole actually went. If this was his home, then he was the worst host ever. And if he wanted he to be part of this mess he hoped one day to be able to call a normal life, he was a self-righteous bastard.

So he concentrated on his task. Finally broke out and took his brother, _and some other poor souls few of which didn't deserve to live at all, _ with him. But despite all that, and despite the fact they still had to fetch LJ, Michael still felt something was missing. Like he left something behind. He wouldn't lie to himself about what that something was. He knew perfectly well. The thing he lied himself about was that his reasons were pure, were just. To save his brothers life. No matter how many he destroyed along the way. No matter how much her destroyed _her _along the way. The biggest irony? He sent her _cranes_ as a gesture of apology. An _apology_, God, how could he even try to apologize for what he had done? Apologize for something that should have been necessary doing in the first place. And for the first time in his life, Michael, even in the presence of his brother, felt restless, incomplete and lonely. But he could not afford to dwell on that. He had to move on.

Times passed and people came and went, some of them for good. Their own father, who never really had to time to create a real feel of home for them amongst those people. It was at this place when Michael started to realize that the only thing that was left from his noble goals and that stayed behind their tracks was the uncertainty of where they were heading and how long would the disgusting odor of treachery and destruction they caused linger behind.

Then there was Evanesville. And once again, it took Michael by surprise how fulfilled a man could feel in the presence of family and…_love_. Not happy, no, he would have been the biggest egoistic son of a bitch to feel happy at the sight of her, at the sight of what his action done _to_ her. Like a little scared bird ready to fly away any moment she stepped from the train and all he could feel, apart from all that guilt and relief and gratitude, something else, more stronger than all his other feelings combined. He felt _hope._ Hope that maybe one day, in the future, there would be time and space for the two of them to create something resembling a true, four-wall-doors-and-windows home. Michael of course recognized right there this idea being the most insane one he ever had. The most unrealistic, most utopian one. But at that moment, on that train, in that rest room, at those lips, he let himself hope, for hope was the only thing that was keeping him going and he finally got the chance to let her know.

And then there was the freighter and all his hopes had gone up into smoke like that. The possible new home he was sailing to was not to be shared by the one person he hoped he would share it with. Cursed be Panama, cursed be '_Cristina Rose_'. For a short time, cursed be even Lincoln for he wasn't giving a damn once again.

A split second. That's all they've had. The sight of Sara beating out the dust from a small cloth at the deck was so bizarre, but at the same time felt so natural, it made his inside liquidize. For a split second Michael actually _felt_ home. That hug, that hand squeeze, that look, that was a promise he couldn't let that easily pass.

Then the _shot_ and a destroyed dream once again. Sona and the thought of his nephew and _her_ being on death row, _how ironical,_ their lives depending on the speed at which his brain was working. But before he could be given even a chance, the blow came. And with that blow, every dream or hope he ever had shattered into pieces. From that moment, he was on stand-by. Save LJ. Reunite him with his father and then, the last step, vengeance. After that, all he could see was empty space. So much for the home he dreamed they would have. He couldn't even deliver a hammock and 50cent bears, not even a single damned date. How the hell did he plan to deliver so much more? A possible future?

His brother called to him. _Begged_ him to return with him, with his son, with his new found girl, but suddenly, Michael had an odd feeling of not belonging to this family anymore. Home was not where Lincoln was anymore. Everybody he ever cared for, he only dragged down. And without her, there would be no tomorrow, no future, no home, no hope.

Then, something incredulous happened. Something he couldn't grasp into words just yet, but to explain, only one thing needs to be said; his hope was restored. Suddenly, everything felt like home. The car he drove her away in, the smelly motel room they rested in, hell, even the gas station the stopped at to refill and have a little break.

Using this opportunity, she stepped out of the car and he couldn't do anything else but anxiously eye her, afraid she would wander away from his sight and disappear once again, the gesture awaking him from a dream he never though would have been possible ever again. As quickly as he could he filled the tank with gas and paid the bored owner some cash, then joined her hastily at the edge of the road. She was facing the open field, her features thoughtful, a light breeze tossing and playing with her hair. The dark bruise right under her eye was still painfully visible, but what he was most afraid about were the far graver scares he knew laid beneath.

He wrapped his arms carefully around her, as if scared to disturb her, and maybe even more scared to be rejected at some point. It was then she turned her head towards him, leaning into his touch, and his heart sang with joy. She buried her face into his chest and let him hold her, then whispered something against him, but the sound of her voice being even quieter than the sound of the rustling of the grass in the wind made him ask her to speak again.

"Take me home." She said again in a voice that was barely over a whisper.

"And where exactly is that?" He asked gently, genuinely lost at the thought of what place she was referring to.

"Anywhere but here and everywhere else, as long as _you_ are there." She whispered in the most quiet voice once again but this time, the breeze was working in his favor and carried her words to his ears. He could only smile. Here in her, he found something he didn't though possible. Someone, who actually shared the exact same view as him. That wherever you are, you can call _home_ just about anything as long as you could share it together with the people you love.

END


End file.
